When a wife is frustrated and hates being married…Part one


Something he did has made her unhappy again and inside she’s seething.

And wrestling with fear stemming from his decision.

And not a little hurt. He really didn’t discuss this with her, just mentioned it and went ahead and did what he felt was best.

Now look at them — adversely affected in several ways and the family suffering.

Her growing prickly as a porcupine and the seething making her heart seize. And she is stuck.

Yet he says it will all work out. He has said that before.

But now she has lost hope. No longer believing and she feels like she just doesn’t care.

So she nurses a grudge with negative feelings and thoughts that torment, keeping her awake through the wee hours.

Each morning she is happy to see him out the door. Yet her stay-at-home-mom routines bring little joy outside of her babies’ smiles, and housework boring makes her feel a little more justified in her frustrations. And at the end of the day he seems to always have a headache.

So she starts thinking she might be better off without him.

Because maybe he doesn’t talk to her the way she wants him too. Or bring her flowers. Maybe she thinks he should ask for a raise instead of telling her to serve pasta for dinner three nights a week. Maybe he’s gained a few pounds from all that pasta and she loathes his lack of self-control. Maybe she can’t see anything good about this man to whom she has promised her life.

And she feels like giving up and moving on.

To greener pastures.

To find the man of her dreams.

To a life lived independent of a husband. Or at least this husband.

She reminds herself she is educated and talented and worked before the kiddos came. Her mom, retired, loves her grands and has often said if full-time daycare was ever needed she is available.

And she sees her recently divorced girlfriends having fun dating on weekends when their kids are at dad’s.

And she can’t remember when she last felt truly happy. Or wanted.

She loves her babies and delights in them, but she is miserable in her marriage and if something doesn’t change soon she thinks she’ll lose her mind.

Or maybe all the stress has turned itself against her and her body gives up and she can’t understand why she is so tired all the time or losing her hair until the doctor pronounces her sentence: autoimmune disease or worse. And then she gets more angry and more scared.

All she wants to do is scream. Loudly. But that would frighten her little ones and wake her snoring husband. So she stuffs it all, entertaining thoughts too dark for words.

Yet the thought of divorce isn’t an option.

Not for her, the Bible-toting, Sunday school-teaching mom and wife who juggles soccer practice and choir practice and helps friends in need, always wearing her Christiany mask complete with plastic smile.


God hates divorce.

Ad she feels He will be terribly unhappy with her if she left her man for he hasn’t really done anything divorce-worthy. True, some of his decisions aren’t the wisest and the effects are serious, but if she sets aside her anger and thinks straight and narrow for a moment she knows he is a good man trying his best in a world hard and cold and all he wants and needs is a little warmth and tender understanding from his bride beloved.

Her helping him become the best man he can be.

So she tries to do her best and puts on a happy face and says the right words and does what any good wife would do. And she fools herself for a week or two until, like Eve, she starts listening to the relentless voice that whispers lies.

Lies seduce and she gives in and lashes out angry words. Or spends too much money at the mall. Or leaves the dishes all day in the sink because she knows he hates seeing them undone.


Or maybe she suffers silently as her depression grows darker and deeper. She’s not sleeping well and isn’t eating. Or maybe is eating too much. She dislikes her mate so she loses herself in a couple of glasses of red after the children are asleep and spends too many hours online playing Candy Crush.

Escaping the pain, the fear, the frustration, the seeming hopelessness of her situation. And she spirals deeper downward.

And all of it a lack of love.

But God!

He is her hope even when she resists Him.

He will not fail her though she has failed a million times.

He will not leave her an orphan child to survive the wilds of the world even when she finds it hard to receive the Father’s love. And nothing she does, nor anything that has been done to her, will ever separate her from his embrace.

It’s a dim glimmer for her to see hope in an unseen God when for too long all she has seen are her own demands, wants and needs.

Desperate after a long, cold night of the enemy’s taunts, she calls out the name that is above all names.


She breathes it barely audible for her family is sleeping, but He hears.

She knows she needs help and there is no where else to turn. She and her spouse have talked and prayed and fought. Fought a lot.

She has read words from the latest woman’s magazine offering tips on how to have a better marriage. She has sat with him in their pastor’s office on many occasions for counseling but if truth be told she wasn’t seeking help to change her marriage as much as she was there to vent her disappointment and change her husband.

So she asks God for help only half believing that He can even though He has never once failed her.

Still too angry for tears of her own repentance, she tiptoes out of bed in the early morning darkness and laces up her running shoes that have sat still all winter. Peeks in to check on the kids. Steps over the sleeping dog and heads out the door and down the road.


The chill wind at her back makes her run a little faster. And she starts to feel free. Pounding the pavement for a while boosts her endorphins, lifting her dour mood just enough for her to catch an honest glimpse of herself in her mind’s eye.

What she sees is not pretty but disfigured and deformed.


And she spiritually pounds her chest while her arms keep pumping by her sides, stride after stride, and the sun slowly shows its luminous face, clouds clinging all peachy and violet in the eastern sky. And right there, on that empty road a few miles from home, she drops to her knees.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…

All our longings end in love

Tune in for part two of the Frustrated Wife series tomorrow which focuses on true beauty, a peaceful, respectful spirit and the most important thing you can do to help your man and your marriage be the best ever.

 Part 2

Part 3



Vulnerability, humility and learning to love like Jesus…


Sometimes I feel like a teeny, tiny girl who’s broken in a million, sharp-edged pieces scattered while the big me carries on full steam ahead, ship on course across open, fierce seas.

And when my thoughts turn into the wind and my feelings sink, rudder shuddering, I’m in for a wild ride.

Creaking and trembling as pressure reaches fever pitch.

Broiling and roiling, frothy with fear and a need — make that a want — to control people, places, things. Intensity of the current, and choices made, revealing the cracks below the hull, places that are leaking.

SOS sounding while waves crash wide and me in that moment narrow in love.

For God and others — yet there is plenty of selfish self-love even during momentary storms of self-pity, poor me.


And I remind myself that the enemy lies in my wake ever ready to fire shots across the bow.

And the things I hate  — winters gray and gloomy too long in leaving or dreaded sleepless nights, the absolute bane of my existence when lies lay down with me covering in shadows deep — become tsunami-like and depth charge my love, peace shattered.

And the picture in pieces is not worth a thousand ugly words.

Woman wailing discontent with what God is allowing and I am a mess.

Forgetting that all things work for good and God is good and He desires to give His children good gifts and good gifts can come wrapped in discomfort and darkness. Instead of throwing away the gift with the crumpled paper all cranky I must humble in order to receive the blessing ribboned in pain.

Not fun. Not easy.

But submerged below the surface of what I see or experience is a gift more precious than gold.

Gift of holy fire.

Sent from above, it purifies at an inner level, peeling back the layers concealing secret sins or weeping wounds. Removing masks from little girls or boys brave and strong, showing the scared and hurting heart of a child precious and dear to the Father’s waiting heart.

And in His great patience and compassion He draws us close if we surrender our sturdy wills that have so long helped us survive our demons, or others’.


Coming dirty and drenched, muddy and lost, He calms the storm in us and washes our feet and we are one stroke closer to the shore where Love cooks fish over an open flame and hearts catch fire for fish yet to be caught.

And in the closeness of communion with the One who is the Christ, Son of the living God, we cast off sin that so easily entangles and are further reborn, more fully rebuilt, more deeply reassembled to better resemble our Creator in whose image we are made.

Loving onward and upward with souls full sailing until we embrace trials as friends, and our vulnerability and humility like light shed across shoals once obscured.

And in coming to Him and overcoming continuing to become.

CAPE ANN RAINBOW Copyright 2013 Sheila Kimball

Bow reaches across the deep, rain over and gone.

And chaos is birthed into beauty…

All our longings end in love


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When hurts pile up like stone upon stone…


And our hearts get walled in, burying the wound.

Yet in sealing the wellspring of our soul we shut out hurt’s antidote.


We may convince ourselves we’re over the loss, betrayal, abandonment, or our own sin, claiming it doesn’t hurt or impact our lives anymore. From the outside looking in it appears we’re in control and all is good.

But nothing is good.

For at the core of our hearts the hurt festers. And as it festers, it infects everything around it. When it gets inflamed it even spills out black bile over everyone.

For a man’s words depend on what fills his heart. A good man gives out good—from the goodness stored in his heart; a bad man gives out evil—from his store of evil. I tell you that men will have to answer at the day of judgment for every careless word they utter—for it is your words that will acquit you, and your words that will condemn you.
Matthew 12:34 J.B. Phillips

And from our lips will pour every ranting and raving that churns inside, deep down where we’ve pushed the pain under pressure.

Locked up inside it makes our souls sick, and even sometimes our bodies.

But we are not meant to live like that!

God sent His son Jesus as our Redeemer who came to take away our sin and heal our hurt.

Yet it hurts as we heal, recalling painful episodes in our lives and the hurtful things others have done to us. Or that we have done.

But if we stay bound in our hurts, with our hearts sequestered, we miss out on the fullest experience of the greatest gift.

God’s love and the love we can share with others…

PROMPT: Every moment is an opportunity for change, healing and growth. And writing your heart out through journaling helps. So put pen to paper for just 10 to 15 minutes a day and start pouring out your pain.


This post first appeared on Journaling4Faith

where I was guest posting.

My friend Kathy Bornarth’s site has tons of great
encouragement and practical tips for beginning
or maintaining a journaling practice. I encourage you to
visit her.

And from my personal experience I can say that journaling really helps.

To the wife who holds her breath…

She holds her breath but she can’t fill walking on eggshells cracking. Emptiness inside splitting her heart and her head pounding because he’ll be home soon. And there’s a stray piece of dust on the hardwood floors.

He won’t notice the whole house sparkling, delicious dinner simmering, kids working on homework or a baby sleeping peacefully.

He will only notice that one piece of dust. The one she missed in her flustered frenzy to make it all perfect. Everything in place so he would have no complaint.

But it doesn’t matter. None of it. Not how good she is, or how quiet the kids are, or that she did everything he told her even the things she knew were somehow wrong. But he said they were right. That God would have it this way. And he is always quick to remind her that she must obey, submit, keep her mouth shut.

So she keeps holding her breath.

But in the back of her mind it stirs. Deep in her heart Truth raking over the coals with the fire almost out for the lies have nearly extinguished the flame, the light. Her heart keeps pumping and blood keeps coursing, but his veins keep popping ever angry.

A part of her wants to leave, run away, escape him, but she can’t think straight living like this where control rolls over her and manipulation mangles her soul, heart all shredded. Pieces on the floor like so much dust.

And it all happens quiet without him lifting a hand towards her.

Not like her mother who married a drinker and him beating her black and blue plain to see. Her mom maybe would have left that man she married at 18 only to escape her childhood home where her own father hurt and she held a sick secret all the years of her growing from girl into woman. Maybe her mother would have left her dad, but she didn’t. And cycles spin forward and the wife who holds her breath — her situation it isn’t so glaring. Bruises lie deep in soul and psyche where the damage is just as killing but far less noticeable seeming easier to excuse.

She keeps holding her breath because she’s caught in a web sticky with lies. Crazy! One minute she feels crazy. The next she knows he’s crazy. Then it all spins crazy and maybe he acts less crazy and she thinks and hopes and holds her breath a little longer while her heart skips a stone across a pond and the ripples keep moving outward and she hopes with a ripple of hope that he will change. That things will change, that life will get better. That maybe she will wake up and realize she had fallen asleep reading a story.

But this story is real and it’s hers and it hurts. And he keeps on hurting her and doesn’t change because maybe he can’t, maybe he won’t. Same old same insane churns sour like her stomach and she tries to stay sane. And she becomes that piece of dust, made of dust, needing to be swept into the arms of the Everlasting One, but her marriage swirls like leaves dead caught in a wind twirling fierce.

She promised for better or for worse. And she thinks it could be worse. Or maybe better if somehow she was better. And she just wants to be loved.

And that one piece of dust on the floor, the only thing he squinty sees, it riles him red and he whips in ways that won’t show, but the Maker of all things visible and invisible, He sees. She holds her breath and holds on tight and the ride gets scarier and she thinks she’ll lose her lunch only she isn’t able to eat because she really is losing her mind and she wants to scream “Stop” and run and hide, taking her babies far and away.

From insanity seething.

But she is caught and keeps doing the same thing over and over expecting different to come but it doesn’t. She can’t scream because he will hear and make it worse. And she can’t speak because she can’t barely breathe with holding her tongue all tied and she’s got to untie the ropes that bind. Breaking free of the hold he has on her, death grip squeezing dry her life drop by drop.

She fears.

Phantoms lurk and she wonders how can she stay and she prays she won’t disappoint God. She has lived so many days under his roof and under his thumb that she has forgotten how to think deep and trust herself without him telling her mighty all what to think or how or when.

And the Word that was made flesh is mangled like bodies on a highway divided from breath by some driver drunk wild whose life will go on with one more drink, or one more line; one more word or one more lie. Repeating, not stopping, and collateral damage that takes forever to heal. For words twisted evil under the guise of godliness gone mad wield power and that is all it is. A power play. Except he isn’t playing and she can’t win.

Is she going mad? Because it’s crazy to stay when you have to hold your breath and you can’t breathe and you can’t be the woman God has made you to be because he wants to control everything and especially you. A little each day she dies inside while on the outside he tries to be Christ repeating words holy, except he isn’t and it’s all unwholesome. Him denouncing sin in others but never seeing his own. Saving the lost when he is most lost.

And love is only a label for lunacy.

So he bullies with syllables that slap hard and hurt as much as if his hand had hit her head. It all spins fast and she talks fast to close friends or maybe her mother. They tell her to get out that it is no marriage when it’s only abuse, control, and violence washed down not with whiskey but the Word. A six pack of lies and more lies and she lies there trying to sort it out but can’t for only one of the two-as-one is trying and it feels like dying and it’s so sly, selfish and sick.


She holds her breath and she keeps holding on. She took a vow and she won’t let go, won’t let God down. But it’s living vacant and there is no air, oxygen gone. Code blue. And she wonders how it ever got this bad. Worries what people will think and what will become of her children but life is not life in a house of horrors where unspeakable transpires and it is later than she thinks. Little ones learning what they see and getting all broken.

Time to go.

For she can never change him when he doesn’t want to change, doesn’t see the truth in a true, real Way. Won’t bend His knee to the Almighty when it’s the throne he desires. She is pulled and she is pushed and the walls are coming down and she waits to hear from God. And someone who was once in a place so dark it demanded her soul as ransom speaks.

Get out before it destroys your soul.

Some men kill flesh, others the heart unseen. And the robber baron steals it all and her future and her gift taken, the gift she is to this world, help she is meant to give others caught in a hell when home is never far away. Until His hand takes hers offered. Safe.

Women have held their breath for men who were not husbands real and true, not husbands in the image of the Maker who is our husband, but only brutes and them broken, too. All lost and crying and sinful twisted inside, needing a Savior but running away from what lies buried deep in the grave of their own past all hurting. Never seeing or maybe not wanting to see.

But Truth will set her free and she will see.

And she will breathe again…

Are you in an emotionally controlling marriage? If your spouse refuses to take responsibility for his actions and get help the situation may not change. Your marriage may fall apart. You are wracked with pain over his treatment of you and perhaps beginning to see your own brokenness? A free mentoring session can help you begin your journey to healing.

Sheila Kimball Mentoring encourages you to heal your heart and move forward from where you are today to a much better life based in an abiding relationship with God. CLICK my image now to get started on healing your heart and mending your marriage or life.

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When apricots made me laugh and 10 tips to combat winter SADness plus a recipe for Blues-Battling Chocolate Pudding

SNOW 2014

SNOW 2014-2

So before the snow came down I was soaking dried apricots for a new recipe.

When I looked in the bowl and saw all these little, bloated, brownish-orange blobs I lost it.

Don’t ask me why but I started laughing and couldn’t stop. Even thinking about it now as I write is making me smile. And I am sorry to say that in my giggling fit I completely forgot to snap a photo.

I laughed so loud and long that my Michael came up from his study to see what in the world was going on.

He and I have somewhat different ideas about what’s humorous and what’s, well, inane 🙂 but my laughter was so contagious he caught the wave.

And laughter is good for the soul and it boosts our immunity as well! And how important it is to laugh especially during the gloomy season of winter {spoken as a girl of summer with my apologies to winter-lovers like my husband.}

Now that Phil has indicated we are in for six more weeks with the white stuff and frigid temps, some of us may need help combating the sadness that can accompany the season of shivering where we like to hibernate, crave carbs, feel lethargic and daydream about visiting a tropical island.

If you are feeling sadder than SAD, please contact your health care provider about seasonal depression. But if you’re like me and get only occasional bouts of cabin fever, try these tips:

**1. Keep laughing — watch funny movies, tell each other jokes, play a game of silly charades.

**2. Move — get up from your computer every half hour and stretch. Dedicate at least 30 minutes daily to exercise you enjoy such as walking, dancing or yoga. Or go shovel some snow.


**3. Get social — and not just online although making those connections truly does boost your spirits. Schedule a tea date with a friend face-to-face at least once a week.

**4. Sleep well — establish a sleep routine and stick with it. Retire and wake at the same time each day. Don’t be online late at night and avoid watching movies that can shake you up before bed. Aim for seven to eight hours.

**5. Take a “nap” with your spouse — sexual intimacy, which boosts endorphins and bonding hormones, improves your mood as well as bolsters immunity. So have fun!

**6. Let there be light — during the day if it’s gray and drab out, turn on indoor lights. Open shades and curtains to let in as much natural light at possible. If you have serious issues with SAD speak to your doctor about investing in a Lux light for photo therapy and other helps to make you feel better.

**7. And excellent things…make a date with God every single day. Pour out your heart in prayer and read His love letter to stay in the right frame of mind. Stand strong against fearful, negative thinking by identifying the enemy’s lies and replacing them with truth. Keep a gratitude list and count your blessings. Journal your thoughts. Focus on what’s true, right, lovely and praiseworthy per Philippians 4:8.

**8. Go outside and play — this can be hard for me because on cold and dreary days I just want to stay inside where it’s warm. But bundling up in multiple layers and forcing myself to leave the confines of my cave really revs my spirit while it increases my heart rate. Being in nature even on a dreary day can be a great tonic. And if the sun is out, all the better. You will soak up vitamin D and make your brain happier at the same time.

**9. Eat healthy — even though the carbs are calling loudly just say no. Instead reach for foods high in B vitamins (including dark leafy greens and whole grains which raise blood sugar more slowly than simple carbs like white flour and sugar and can help regulate moods) and omega 3s from such sources as walnuts, salmon, sardines and avocados.

**10. Chocolate!! — need I say more? Skip the sugary milk chocolate and indulge in organic, fair trade, dark chocolate of at least 70 percent cacao. But go easy. One to two ounces per day is really all you need.

And here’s a very yummy treat that’s good for your body and can make your brain happy {at least it does mine!}



Longings End Blues-Battling Chocolate Pudding

2 very ripe avocados, scooped from their shells and pitted
about 8-10 dried apricots (soaked overnight in about 3/4 cup water)
4 generously heaping tablespoons of cocoa powder
2 teaspoons of maple syrup (more if you like it sweeter)

Place the apricots with their water into a Vita-Mix or blender.
Blend for about 20 seconds or so.
Add the maple syrup, and cocoa powder one tablespoon at a time.
Blend until creamy and the consistency of pudding.
It gets thick so you may need to stop and scrape down the sides of the blender once or twice.

This pudding is rich and not too sweet. If you like it sweeter just add more maple syrup one teaspoonful at a time. Keep refrigerated and eat within two days.

But it probably won’t last that long…


Sheila Signature Reduced


And if your heart is breaking? Or someone you know is hurting?
Purchase your copy of Heart Cry today by clicking here.

Heart Cry by Sheila Kimball


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